What's the point?

I so wanted to write last night but I couldn't access my blog. So now, I've typed this down on notepad and the one you're reading now is the copy&paste version of it. I just wanted to say ...

I'm going mad. Like it is beyond me to keep my sanity.

It wasn't like this when I woke up at 11 in the morning, getting all that sunshine during breakfast. I checked the net for the latest in accumulating email and whoever's on YM. I was able to chat with my shoe friend during working hours. THere was another person online, but FUCK him. I so hate him right now. If you know me personally, I rarely hate people. Even if I'm this bitter with the human race and overpopulation, I'm not one to feel remorse unless inexorably provoked. I mad at my friend right now. I really am.

Anyway, my shoe friend commented how I had been a little more "sensitive" the past few days. It's true. I have been more sensitive. It's sheighty I tell you. It makes this infinite sadness more deeply felt, more lingering for someone without skin. How many times have I imagined killing myself in many different painless ways, then somebody would just come into my room and see me the way I intended. Contrary to how I thought of suicide before, it never ran in my mind how people would react to my death or who would weep at my funeral. There was none of that. I wasn't even thinking of the afterlife or how I would stay in this world as a wandering spirit with unfinished business. It was nothing like that. It was simply just the dying part. I mean, inside I'm already dead. Something in me has to die.

WHich makes it such a tremendous task for me to find ways in which to spice up my storyline with things that are opposite of who I am right now. Infusing images of life or happiness in an artform devoid of my emotional or political expression. The tremendous task of creating a happy ending when it's not so happy for me right now.
I wish I had the confidence level my friend has in me. Even if I push through most of the time, I sorely believe this reclusive boat I'm traveling in wishes to capsize into the water when the boatman forgot to lend me his lifejacket before I embarked on my journey.

Even if I tread and stay afloat, where am I going? Clearly, it has been impressed on me that only I can save myself. Only God can save me. That I alone will get myself out of the mess I'm in.

I can only wade in water for so long. And honestly, not having a coast guard patrol to rely on, what's the point of keeping afloat or swimming without direction? What's the point of waiting for something that would never come? What's the point to going back to shore when the people who live there are useless and apathetic?